Chapter 1: A Flame Aborning

Chapter 1:  A Flame Aborning

Aside from my family there aren't many Mamono on my bus route.  I wonder if that's an odd observation to make, or if it's odd that I haven't made it before now.  Not even that one Nekomata is on this route.  The trees all fade into a green blur as I remember something that struck me as odd before.  Werecats, Nekomatas, Sphinxes, and Cheshires are all basically derived from cats, or more specifically the monsters that were their pre-Mamono predecessors.  The same is true for Lamias, Echidnas, and Medusae in connection to snakes, right?  If that's true-
"So, what do you think?"

I turn to investigate whatever it is that Cara has asked me about.  She stares back at me expectantly.  Dammit.  My inattentiveness is going to kill me someday.
"Sounds fine," I offer.
"Great!  How much water do you think we'd need to do that?"
Her tail is wagging and her ears are pointed straight up.  There's only one way of salvaging this without having to look at what is without a doubt the most crushing puppy-dog expression in the world.
"Well, I'm not really- Oh, look, ducks!"
She shifts quickly enough to give a normal human whiplash and her back goes rigid.  And here I thought her ears were perked up before.  I'm sorry, Cara, I'll definitely listen to your idea next time.  I take a breath while her attention is diverted and return to my own window.  Stone towers.  Painted glass.  Bulldozers.

My own attention becomes piqued as I stare out the window at the dozens of trucks and heavy machinery behind the newly placed chain-link fence.  The old temple to the chief god hasn't seen use since around when I was born, but it has always stood there.  It's part of the city, older than the rest of the buildings here by five hundred years.  Now, though, it's surrounded by construction equipment, waiting to be ripped apart and torn down.  The ancient stone towers disappear behind the next copse of trees as I swallow a sense of discomfort.

Why the hell would anyone- no, wait, that's a stupid question.  Plenty of groups want to see every last sign of the influence of demon lords or chief gods removed from the world.  They're reminders of an age when people like me couldn't exist; when "Mamono" was just a fancy term for "monsters."  Civilization has finally moved on from the tyranny of beings who warped the minds, bodies, and souls of the innocent and left only blood and tears in their wake.  Many would like to forget.  It's not like I can't understand them.  It's just... why does it have to be that church?

Over the past few years I've thought about slipping inside, over the cast-iron and stone fence, and into that ancient temple.  I could see what it was like back when it was in use, see the light filter through the rainbow-hued glass.  I wouldn't have any trouble avoiding whatever random, middle-aged security guy was stuck outside.  And if there's a lock then I'll just have go find another way in.  I can climb, and I'm betting there would have to be some rooms or offices in the back with just ordinary windows. I can feel each heartbeat thumping in my chest before I realize how excited I am by this.  The flame of my lamp is dancing madly and letting off barely audible "whoomph"s in my lap.  My mind is settled.  I'm going to do this tonight.  After all, it's my last cha-
"I'm so excited, too!"

I look back to Cara.  She looks at the lamp then back to my face, beaming a happy, fanged grin.
"Hey, Cara."
She doesn't stop grinning as she answers, "Hnn?"
"Does the mall next to the school still have that Glaze-a-bon?"
"I think so, why?"
"Care for some cinnamon rolls after school?"
Her tail starts hitting the chair even harder, "Absolutely!"
"Good," I state, readying my most underhanded means of dealing with my lupine sister, "remember to remind me of that after school."
She nods excitedly at the new task she's been presented with.  "Gotcha."

It's not that she can't remember two things at once, or that she's not bright.  It's more that food takes first priority.  She's going to spend seven hours thinking about a giant ball of pastry, and then she'll have eaten it and be too content to trouble herself over anything else.  I like to reassure myself that this is actually a kind thing that I'm doing for her.  I'm making her happy, after all.

But then, if I were a good brother, would I have to reassure myself of that?

---

A gnawing concern lasts with me all throughout school, and doesn't fade until I'm on the road heading back home.  My eyes are drawn to the one stretch of trees past which is the temple.  The painful tension in my stomach immediately fades as we pass the old church and I see that the deconstruction hasn't truly begun yet.  Good.  I'll grab the ratty old hoody in my closet; I won't miss it if it gets torn up or I need to ditch it.  I'll get a rag or something to cover the lantern, or maybe just stick it in a backpack?  But then, if it ignites-
"This road's way too long," Cara states with a pout.

I don't even need to think about that in order to answer it.  "I've seen you run distances twice as long, smiling all the way.  Hell, the last time you did that while keeping me from my ball."
"That's different, that's a game."  She flatly explains this as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.  "Here it's just a long, dumb, boring walk."
"You don't like walks now?"
"I don't like boring ones."
I sniffle as loudly as possible, "Oh well, I guess I'm just terrible company."
The elbow to my ribcage answers before she does.  "Cut that out.  It's just that I've been here a million times before.  I wanna go somewhere new!  See something new!  Smell something new!"  She's almost shouting now, but it's not like there's anyone around to complain.

I glance backward at the church we've just passed.  "Yeah, okay, I can understand that.  Most of that, anyway."  I spare myself a dry laugh at my own covert humor.  I immediately stop.

"Hey."
"Hmm?"
"You owe me a rib."

---

"So, uh, Sparky," dad begins between mouthfuls of chicken, "you hear anything new from that, uh, catgirl of yours?"
And here I thought I was done getting flak for that thing with the Nekomata.  Hell of a way to start a conversation there, dad.  Oh well, I might as well try to get out of this.
"Nope."
For a moment there's silence again.  It's only just long enough for me to start to hope that this wouldn't continue.
"You know," he takes another bite of food, giving me about thirty seconds of warning for what I'm about to be subjected to.  "If you wanted to," he pauses again.  Dammit dad, if you're going to do this you could at least have the decency to get it over with quickly.  "Now - your mother and I have talked about it."  I'm not sure at what point during this sentence I began to hate everything that exists.  "And we feel, well - and this is only if you wanted to, mind you."  I nod my head.  I don't want to nod my head, but it'll get it over with more quickly.

"Well, we just feel that if you wanted to," mom leans in next to him now, wrapping an arm around his, "that we'd be all right with you going out and, well, dating a girl."
"'Kay."

Nothing more.  For a while there's nothing but staring and eating.  Vee and Safi are both just staring at their food.  Sister is smiling so widely at me that it has to be painful.  Evette is very studiously staring at nothing at all.  Mom and dad are staring at me with something between lingering expectation, pride, and concern.  I'm staring back with the flattest, blankest expression I can muster.  Tera is staring at a butterfly out the window.

It takes a while for everything to return to normal.  Dad keeps chewing for a moment before doing that thing which can best be described as a shrug with the eyebrows.  Mom, however, looks slightly crestfallen.  It's honestly painful to look at.  She returns to her food, but now she's hardly picking at it.  Did she really want me to just go find some random girl who jumped me and ask her out?  Or is it some expectation that I should want to be dating already?  Could it be that she's already expecting grandchildren out of me?  Whatever the reason, I speedily finish the remainder of my food and get up to leave.

"Wait!"  The shout causes everyone at the table to jump with surprise.  Tera turns to me, mouth agape and half-full with the remainder of her mashed potatoes.  "You have a girlfriend!?"

---

The shaky, excited feeling returns as I start gathering assorted tools from around my room.  It's nothing big, I think, just trespassing on grounds that no one owns.  If I broke something, would it even matter?  Who'd be mad?  Would they even have a guard placed there at all?  Would anyone even bother to do anything if I was found out?  It's harmless, and yet there's still the nervous excitement.  Is this what makes criminals?

The only problem left is my family.  They're generally pretty good about not trying to pry into whatever it is I'm doing so that isn't a problem.  The problem is if one of my serpentine sisters wants something warm to sleep next to, and they figure out that I've disappeared.  Young men disappearing from their rooms is something people would rush to check in on in case some feral came and grabbed me.  I also should probably avoid leaving a sign that says what I'm actually doing, if only to avoid the half-hour talking-to after I got back.  Maybe I-

No.  No no no.  No.  That would just be dumb.  I'd never hear the end of it.  There's no way that would cause me anything but trouble.

Or would it?  It might make mom happy, for whatever reason.  And I could tell Sister that I've got someone else "ministering to my needs."  There's no way I could avoid an avalanche of questions.  The image of mom asking me when she can expect grandchildren runs through my head.  But then, I could just not answer them.  They'd be suspicious, but that'd be the end of it.  Hells, I wouldn't even have to tell a lie; I've kinda felt bad about that night - even if it was her own damn fault.

With my mind settled I grab the paper, pen, and tape.  "Gonna go talk to that Nekomata.  I might be a while."  I slap it to the steel plate bolted to the front of my door.  Then it's out the window and into the cool, evening air.  It's a good ten minutes to get to that road, and I'll need it to figure out what I'm gonna say to her.  The thing is, even if I've known her for a month, I don't know a damn thing about her.

I've read up about them ever since that night.  Apparently what happened was effectively their entire strategy for finding men.  Pretend to be just an ordinary cat, find some guy kind enough to feed you, keep this up for about a month, then rape.  It's kind of hard to imagine how that's actually supposed to work, but since there are still nekomatas I guess it works well enough.  They aren't very strong, but where other Mamono with that problem try to charm men, they simply bewilder them.  I guess most of them don't stumble across men with reflexes like mine.  Or they do, but most men don't have weapons chained to their arms.

I turn off of the main road and see the abandoned house in the distance.  I remember I was first drawn down here by how old everything seemed.  The entire cul-de-sac is shaded by rows of old trees that hang over the road.  Part of me begins to really hope that she won't be there.  If she was there, then she could definitely leave when she spotted me.  I'm not hard to spot, especially at night.  I can't be mistaken for someone else, either.  There's really no reason for her to stay, just as there's no good reason for me to be here.

Two yellow circles shine at me from the tall grass of the untended lawn.  I refrain from making a Minimon reference and simply make my way to the curb and sit down.  I can see her a bit better now.  Black cat, tensed up in the grass about eight feet away, ready to bolt if I do anything.  For the second time I see two tails twitching back and forth in the air.  I smile, and decide to just say what I'm thinking.

"It's a shame.  If I'd seen that second tail earlier, this never would've happened."
There's no response.  She doesn't even blink.  Well, it's not like I really care if she wants to talk or not.
"It's been about a week, right?  You getting enough to eat?"
She stays still and silent.  Her eyes never leave mine.  Well, I suppose I can at least take solace in the fact that she looks uninjured.  I hope that-
I hope that I didn't-

My voice comes out as a barely whispered squeak before I can ask my question.  I cough a couple times and try again.
"Are you all right?  I came here the day after, but you were gone, and I thought that maybe you'd- that you'd been," and the question died in my throat.  Don't answer that, I don't want to know.  I don't want anything more to do with this.  Dammit.  Why did I ever even come here?  To hells with you and your damn-

"I'm fine," a quiet voice answers.
I'm tempted to just leave.  I got what I came for.  She was a cat I fed for a few weeks.  Hells, we're hardly even acquaintances.  I can just get on my way with a clear conscience now.  I take a deep breath, get ready to stand up, tense up my legs and brace my hands on my knees - and then I turn to look at her.  It's the first time I've really looked at her, not counting when I turned and she was just a blur of claws heading my way.  Now she's just a girl, sitting in the grass with long, black hair and an oversized T-shirt.  She's has that foreign hairstyle where they cut the bangs at the middle of their foreheads, but let everything else grow long.
She seems to laugh silently for a moment before brushing some of her hair from her cheek with a clawed hand.  "Not even a bruise.  It was loud, so I was startled, but it was nothing."

I laugh at this.  It's weird, there wasn't anything funny about it, but I'm laughing anyway.  It sounds so damn odd coming from me.
This time it's her turn to ask the question.  "Are you all right?
I turn away and brush my cheeks with my sleeves.  "Yeah.  Yeah, 'f course I am."  It's kind of true.  I think it's true.
We sit in silence for a while before I turn back to look at her.  It's hard to tell in flickering light, but there's something dirty about her.  The t-shirt is basically one giant grass stain, and the hair from around her neck upward looks oily and unkempt.  There's a temptation to pry into her life.  I could ask her about her home, and her eating habits, and whatever else.  I could find out about her.  I could have all of those conversations that people ought to have at the start of- well, of anything.  I could find out why she did what she did.

Instead I stand up.  "Well, I'm glad."  There's more to say, but no reason to say it.  I can walk way from this whole mistake.
"Hey."
It's barely more than a whisper.  She staring at me with that same flat expression she had as a cat.
"Do you have anymore of that tuna?"
"Yeah, actually.  I can bring the rest of it by tomorrow."
She stares at me for a moment before nodding her head.  "Thanks."

I turn back once I'm a good twenty feet away and see the shimmering light of a pair of cat eyes.  I don't know if that was odd or not.  It was a combination of talking to someone you'd never met before and of chatting with a friend.  My entire body relaxes as I walk.  Whatever I find at that temple can't be anywhere near that difficult.

---

I walk along the chain fence for a good five minutes before I'm satisfied that no one will see me from the road while I'm doing this.  I don't see any guards or regular cars inside the fence.  I pull the wire-cutters from my pack and easily open up a hole.  The black sack I found and cut a hole into is keeping most of the light from my lamp contained, even though it's burning brighter than usual.  Beyond the chain fence is the cast iron one with hundreds of pointed tips aiming straight upward.  It's not difficult to climb up the horizontal bars, but it's not safe, either.  Still, if I wrap one hand with metal then I can at least grab one of them safely.  I drop the lantern and immediately a chain shots out from its handle and forms a manacle around my wrist.  Before it can pull itself back up I wrap the chain around my palm and begin to climb.

I overestimated how difficult that would be.  I guess it makes more sense now why they put a fence around a fence.  It's only slightly more difficult to shift from one side to another once I'm at the top, but I manage to drop down onto the weed-ridden ground on the other side.  From here, it's just a matter of finding my way in.  I work my way around the back of the church, admiring the grey stone all the while.  From up close it seems to keep climbing indefinitely.  Rarely do I find small windows too covered in dust to show me the insides, and no attempt to open them without permanent damage seems possible.

It's not until I reach the third one that I realize how stupid I'm being in trying not to damage anything.  This place will be rubble a week from now.  What the hell am I doing?  I find the next window and am about to put ten pounds of iron through it before I see that it's just barely propped open.  I pull upward and, without some resistance and a loud squeak of rusty hinges, it opens the rest of the way.  It's not a large window, but I can squeeze my way through, and am immediately rewarded with what looks like a disused office.  A worn and eaten desk sits in front of the window with half of its drawers missing.  The only thing it has on it is dust.  A dozen bookcases cover the walls, still holding their dusty tomes of theology and dogma.  I guess no one had any use for books explaining a god that doesn't exist anymore.

The door out leads into a large, stone corridor, which each intersects with another.  Doorway after doorway that I pass shows only offices until I reach the end of one of them.  Opening it, I find the main hall.  I exhale - slowly, reverently, so as not to disturb the ancient stone - and enter.  Pillars going up a hundred feet support a roof so stunningly intricate that it looks like it was made of lace.  The light of the moon shines in through the brilliantly colored glass and makes the dust of the settled air shine, making it seem like I am standing in the center of a vast rainbow.  A hundred pews all face forward to a monument of a giant, golden man, gazing down benevolently upon his subjects.

Twenty years ago, that would have been everyone in town.  Now, however, it's just me and one other.  I don't know who it is, kneeling before the altar.  The dozens of rags that cover their form prevent me from telling their size or anything else.  Yet, what really troubles me is a question: Are they praying?
"Stop."
It's a girl, and she knows that I'm here.  That's two of my questions answered.  The figure turns slightly, and for a moment I see the slightest glint of light reflected from an eye.
"So it's you, Shackleborn."